Forlorn Hope
by BML Hillen-Keene
Summary: 9 years from it all ended, and hell began. 9 years from Voldermort won. All that remains is Forlorn Hope.


_Disclaimer: Don't own._

_I have now planned out this entire story, and can tell you that there shall be twenty chapters long, I have added more onto the first chapter. It may not completely be the same style, but I did wait a long time before doing this, so please forgive me. I shall update when I can, but the chapters are going to be fairly long, so don't expect them to be regular. Anyway, read, review and enjoy._

To begin let's set the scene, take every muggle horror film you've ever seen, combine it then with every major world disaster, whether natural or man-made, add scenes from world war one and two, just a touch of blood, smoke, dirt and screaming. Now multiply that by about twenty zillion, and it just might give you a rough idea of just how bad the world had become.

You think I exaggerate, well, I don't know where you come from or where you've been for the past nine years, but the world I live in-it's called hell. It's a place where blood once ran in rivers through the streets during the slaughter, the smell still lingers-the rain can never wash it away, it clings to everything, reminding us of what we are. And what are we? They do say curiosity killed the cat you know.

We…

We are the survivors.

And what did we survive?

What? A nuclear war? If only. The Apocalypse? We skipped that bit entirely, we were all condemned to hell without a trial. In a world like this there is no point in speaking of God, because he doesn't exist. Not even the devil exists in such a place as this. This place… This place is worse than hell. But I deviate-you wish to know what we survived to procure the titles of survivors. We survived Voldermort.

Not quite as impressive sounding as a nuclear war or the Apocalypse I'll grant you-but take a look around and tell me if you think he did as much damage? Or more.

We survived the Initial Slaughter-that is the only reason we survived at all afterwards, we hid ourselves away when they came, listened to the screams, the cries for help and mercy, watched the blood of thousands drip serenely through the cracks above us. We did nothing-it all happened so suddenly there was nothing we could do, just hide and pray we would be spared.

Sometimes I wonder if maybe it had been better to have died than survived the first slaughter-because after that they started to take prisoners, leading muggles and wizards alike away to the torture camps. It lasted a week the Initial Slaughter. It seemed like years, hiding, cowering-hoping they wouldn't find us if we heard booted feet above us, wondering and worrying about our friends and families when there was silence. No one dared speak, we moved only if completely necessary, staining our ears, hoping beyond all possible hope that some one had survived-that someone would save us.

The sheer horror of it, the imagined horror of that week-the screams, the cries, the moans the groans, the dying… it ate away at us until we were reduced to children, children who desperately wanted to wake up from a vivid nightmare-and a nightmare it was-one we could never wake from. One where no one would come into your room when you started to cry and sooth you, take away all the pain. One where all that existed was the fear, and the waning hope that was diminishing faster and faster with each second. Where day melded into night as the acrid smoke from the thousands of fires clouded the skies and plunged the earth into darkness, and its inhabitants into damnation.

Even when the feet stopped pounding, and the searching became infrequent, and the screams and cries had disappeared-leaving a heavy silence in their wake, we did not move-we could not. To face the sight we had imagined so much, so often… it was too hard… too frightening…

So we sat, and we waited, tense, exhausted, shaking with a fear we could not banish-unable to offer comfort, but wishing we could have it. No words were said-there was nothing to say. So we sat, waiting, wondering of we would die in this place. Thoughts of food had left us long ago, water we got if it rained. I don't know how long we waited. Time had no meaning. It could have been years, or seconds. All there was was blackness. It encroached out thoughts, haunted our dreams. It was our reality. There became no such thing as hope.

And then the door that had never been discovered was suddenly dragged open, sending into our little hideaway a shower of rubble and dust, and though we tried not to the dust made our throats raw and we coughed and spluttered. There was no sound from above but the sound of something being dragged across the floor and a rickety ladder was shoved down, sending up another cloud of dust.

We drew back, now it was our turn, they had found us at last. I could call to mind nothing that could possibly protect us. There wasn't even panic. I just knew that we were going to die.

"Ron? Ginny?"

I blinked at my name, not having heard it in so long, and looked through the blackness around us towards the person now standing at the bottom of the ladder. And I felt something go through me, something like relief, unbelievable relief. I opened my mouth to say the name, but my voice refused to speak.

"Ron? Ginny?"

They moved forward, and the features became more distinct-either the darkness was lifting-if only a little, or my eyesight was adjusting, but I could see clearly for the first time in a long time. Still the same wild hair, thin face, pointed nose and terrible looking glasses. But the eyes, the voice… everything else could be faked, but not that look of concern, not that voice that told me no matter what I was always going to be looked after-just like they had that day I fell off someone's old broom and banged my head on the ground.

I moved, for the first time in what felt like months, pushing the boundaries that had kept us safe for s long as they had, and wrapped my arms around his neck, burring my face into his shoulder. I had no tears to cry, but I couldn't stop sobbing. He wrapped his thin bony arms around us, holding us, and I knew we were going to be ok. He would look after us. No matter what we called him-what we did to him, he had always been there when we really needed him. No matter how much we complained about him in school, we always knew he wouldn't do it if he didn't care. And right then he was the only thing we had left.

And though none of us said it, we knew we would survive, because we were together.

The hope that had started to disappear was coming back, if we three could find each other, then we would survive, we would survive to find the others, or revenge them. I knew it in that instance.

x

So-back to the present day-back to hell on earth. Nine years passed since the Initial Slaughter, where we are-the place once called London, is a ruin, nothing by rubble, smoke and blood. Life is hard, a struggle that become more difficult with each passing day. The numbers of survivors becomes steadily fewer as time passes, food is scare, water even more so. Patrols storm by often, and never leave without a prisoner for the torture camps. But I hear there's a new set of camps being constructed-camps for women, and camps for children, to breed and to make mindless soldiers no doubt.

After Percy found us that day we have remained together, travelling, hiding, searching for our brothers, our mother, our father. So far we had had no luck in locating any of them. Bill and Charlie had been out of the country at the time, away on Order business, we have no way of finding them, we can only hope they've survived and will try to make their way back to England. The twins… there has been not a sight nor sound of them. They're not dead, of that I'm quite certain, they're far too resourceful to get killed or captured. All I hope is that they are keeping a low profile and not drawing enemy activity. I know that's what Percy worried about most of all, that the twins will try something mindlessly stupid and get themselves killed. He's always taken his 'Big Brother' role very seriously what with Bill and Charlie up and moved away before the rest of us were even ten. And Mum and dad? There's more of a chance they're dead than anyone else in the family-unpleasant as it is, it's true. They would have attacked the order first. We were lucky.

"Ron… Ron?"

I blink and turn my eyes from the partially boarded up windows, our relocation of the week. A small tumbledown shack that is currently housing myself, Percy, Ginny and six other people. It's rare that we house with so many others-sometimes one or two, they aren't people we're likely to see again. We're all just seeking somewhere to stay, somewhere to hide. If we were attacked right now-heaven forbid-we would all bolt like rabbits in as many different directions are was offered.

Because no one banded together anymore, it was too easy to be found that way. Only families tried to stay together these days, and even they felt it was more beneficial to slit up and only meet occasionally. We didn't-we couldn't. Just the thought of Ginny out there on her own gave me the shivers, and I wouldn't last a second on my own-I didn't have the courage, or the know-how to make it through the streets alone, I'd break down in an instant. The only one of us who could possibly make it on his own was Percy, I don't know why. He had always seemed to be the weaker of all of us. But he made it possible for me to face each day, to carry on even if sometimes I didn't want to. I tried my best, but I know that without him I'd have fallen to pieces years ago.

"Ron… Ron are you ok?"

Finally I let my eyes focus on Ginny, and I flashed her the faint half smile-it was all I had been able to conjure up for years.

"You're think too much again." she told me bluntly.

"Maybe." I replied quietly.

She was right. I was thinking entirely too much. A horrible habit I had fallen into, thinking about the Initial Slaughter, the near misses we have occasionally, worrying about our brothers. Wondering-if the fancy took me-about Harry and Hermione. I knew nothing of them, had heard nothing of them (not that I ever stayed long enough to hear any conversation the patrols were holding). I sometimes imagined them to be on the run-most likely together. But I knew different, if Harry had survived the first attack (which was debateable really if he had been with the order), then he would have rushed headlong into battle with Voldermort… strange how I can suddenly think his name so freely… Hermione might have survived, I don't know-she was resourceful in her own way-

"Ron!"

Percy's sharp tone cut across my train of though, de-railing it entirely. I looked at him, reading the concern in his eyes. He knew I wasn't dealing with anything that had happened over the past nine years, hell-I knew I wasn't dealing with it. I was kind of like an automan, functioning but not really living-not that there was ever much to live for-not in this-

"Ronald Weasely, will you pay attention to me immediately!"

I blinked again.

"Yes Percy?" I asked, my tone apologetic.

"Eat your food would you." he said, gentle and commanding all in one.

I looked at the cold half sausage and half slice of bread I had sitting on my knee and reached for it, eating mechanically. Ginny settled herself on the floor beside my perch-which was some rubble that had fallen over something at least a little solid. Percy leaned on the wall on the other side of the window, his eyes watching me. Finally he pushed up his crooked and cracked glasses and said.

"You want to talk about it?"

I concentrated on eating for a minute, contemplating the question-did I really want to to talk about it-and what was there really to talk about? Finally I shrugged.

"You were thinking of that day again-weren't you?" Ginny piped up from below me, she could never call it what it was-a slaughter.

Percy's eyes never left my face.

"Maybe." I shrugged.

Percy sighed-he had given up trying to talk me out of remembering those days, he knew it was a lost cause-no matter how much I wanted to stop thinking about it, about all the bad things that had happened, I couldn't. everything had changed that day. Everything. I couldn't remember what it was like before that day. I remember people. I see them sometimes-but no one speaks about it. It's like the world before this one never existed. Maybe it's because I wanted it to all be a dream that I clung to the past. I don't know. I wanted so badly to know what had gone wrong. One second everything was so normal, so peaceful, and the next… the next the streets became rivers, screams became the wind and darkness fell.

All I wanted was the light.

The only thing keeping me going now was my promise to find my family, or revenge them. But the hope is fading, and fading fast.

I turn my gaze back out the window, watching the rain fall-all our flasks are outside, refilling. As dirty and infested as the rainwater is, it's the only source of water we have now. I don't know about _them_, but we have to make do with what we have.

I don't know when exactly I noticed the figure through the rain, but it caught my attention. There was a strange glow surrounding it, not light exactly, but something. I watched it come closer, intrigued. It didn't feel dangerous. When you've lived in constant fear for nine years, you learn to tell where danger is coming from. From the corner of my eye I saw Percy ease his wand down from the sleeve of his tattered robe, just in case. Like I said-he takes his job very seriously. I kept my eyes trained on the figure, watching it approach the door, obscured and like a ghost.

There was a knock on the door that made everyone jump-but we didn't scatter-because they never knocked, they barged right in, wands blazing, killing or stunning everyone they could. Only survivors knocked. No one moved to answer the door, no one spoke at all. It was just the way things were now. The door creaked open-if you were a survivor you were used to having no one answer-again-it's just the way things are now.

Bringing in a splattering of rainwater came a man. He seemed rather fascinating, with long golden hair mostly tied back from his face. He looked familiar, but I couldn't place him. It was becoming more difficult to tell who was who anymore-sometimes I recognised people, and then sometimes I didn't.

The man looked around with eyes that reminded my of the rain out side, grey and cold, taking in where everyone in the room was, looking at all the possible exits, and then for a place to sit. I watched him reach behind him, and watched, again in a strange fascination as a small hand reached up and curled itself round two long fingers. And the man moved. Giving me full view of a child-something I hadn't seen in a long time-I had thought they had all been rounded up for the camp thing.

The child was just as interesting and fascinating as the man, with the same golden hair, same pointed face-there was no doubt this was the mans child. It seemed only young, three or four perhaps.

The man shot me a glare as he passed, and I switched my gaze back to him, seeing his eyes flick over Percy, who I knew was readying some kind of spell, and Ginny. And he froze, a frown suddenly crinkling his face.

"Weasely." he said suddenly, his eyes taking on a look of astonishment.

I looked at him again, I knew he was familiar, I merely couldn't think fro m where.

"Malfoy?" Ginny suddenly said, her voice hushed.

And it all clicked into place. He was from before.

"Well, well. I have to say I never expected to run into you lot ever again. Though it figures you would survive."

There was no malice in the words, it wasn't said in the biting way I could vaguely remember from years ago. It was said with a kind of bemused wonder. He gave us all another once over before his face changed and he smiled a very bemused smile, strangely natural on his face I must say-from what I could remember.

"Would you like to sit with us?" Ginny asked suddenly.

I looked at her, it was an unheard of thing nowadays, to invite people to sit with you. No one could be trusted but yourself, and your family. Percy had decided it was safe, I saw his wand disappear up his sleeve again. I turned my gaze back to Malfoy, I had no real thoughts on the matter. But then, I hadn't felt any emotion but fear and numbness in a long, long time. I can't even remember what I was like before this.

Malfoy turned his slate eyes to me, a calculating look in them that I remembered, before he nodded and took a seat beside Ginny on the floor. Pulling the child into his lap as he did so. I watched him, not really wanting to say anything, content just to watch. We sat in silence-not unusual. For no one ever talked anymore. No one asked questions of people they didn't really know. Everyone had a story, but no one ever told.

But I couldn't help but be curious. Malfoy was, if memory served, one of the ones I would have taken for one of Voldermort's, and yet here he was-he was a survivor, not one of Voldermort's-he didn't have secret agents, he didn't have spies-he had an army to oppress and control us, to hunt us and find us and kill us. He was a survivor, with a child. I was curious.

But you know what they say-curiosity killed the cat.

It was an odd kind of silence that fell over us. one that was filled with questions. Because no one from our past had ever spoken to us before-it just wasn't how it was done.

"He's very quiet."

I didn't realise until Malfoy's eyes raised and he tilted his head slightly to look at me, that I had spoken at all.

"He always is." he replied, surprisingly.

"Why?" I couldn't seem to stop myself.

I saw Ginny and Percy exchange looks. I never asked questions, I hardly ever talked. Why now? I know they were asking themselves-I was asking myself the same thing. Why now? And why to a man I had loathed a long time ago.

"Hasn't said a single word since his mother died." Malfoy said, his voice quiet, his tone soft as he pulled the child's golden hair gently behind his back, running his long fingers through it, untangling the knots and tangles that long hair seemed to invite-I had some myself I had yet to work out.

"What's his name?" Ginny asked tentively.

Malfoy didn't look up from his finger combing, but answered just the same. "Julian."

"That's a pretty name." Ginny said softly. "Did you chose it?"

He shook his head, starting to braid the mostly tangle free hair back as neatly as possible, when he was finished the child-Julian-leaned back and closed his eyes, falling asleep instantly, or so it seemed. We sat in silence again, but the air still hung with questions. I fidgeted slightly-earning myself another concerned look from Percy, but I couldn't help it. For some reason-for the first time in years-I had to talk, I had to ask. I didn't want to just sit in silence, to just let things go s they always did. With everyone ignoring everyone else. As if the whole world didn't exist apart from them. Something in me was sick of it.

So I did the unforgivable.

"So-Malfoy-what's your story?"

It was an unspoken rule never to ask about anyone else-never to pry. But I couldn't seem t help it. I wanted to know what had changed in Malfoy. The memory of him was growing clearer in my mind, and he was a git then-and he didn't seem to be much of one now. So what had happened to make him change.

Malfoy didn't seem surprised, or perturbed by the question at all. In fact, I got the distinct impression that he was laughing at me. "You don't seem to have changed too much then Weasely, have you." he said it as a statement, but he couldn't have been more wrong. I had changed, I had changed in ways I couldn't understand.

"My story…" he paused for a second, and surprised me for a second time. He was going to tell us what his story was. "My story is quite simply the fact that I have a tendency to fall in love with entirely the wrong person."

"Like?" I pressed.

He looked at me then, and shook his head-obviously it was as much as I was going to get out of him. "No, you haven't changed at all really-still as irritating as always." and he smiled, well, more kind of smirked, before he looked down again.

How could he say that? I couldn't understand-I was nothing like I was before. Before I was… Before I had… Before… I had changed, I was nothing like I was before everything. And I most certainly wasn't irritating.

"I am not." I said finally-all my thoughts shrunk down into the shortest sentence.

"Weasely really-you're trying to create an argument out of nothing-do explain how you have apparently changed." he drawled.

And I remembered why I disliked him.

"I am not trying to start an argument." I said finally, trying for indignant-though I'm sure I only managed to come off as sulky, as I mentioned, I hadn't felt emotions in years, I'm fairly sure I couldn't pretend them.

"Of course you're not." he said placating.

That, for some very obscure reason riled me up. " I'm not!" I insisted irritably.

"I'd forgotten how easy it is to rile you up Weasely." he looked up at me again, I was expecting another smirk, one of superiority or something, but it was a half smile, faint amusement glinting in his eyes. And I stopped what I was about to say, well, forgot it was more the case. I held his gaze, until the child shifted in his arms and he turned his attention back to it.

I blinked and sat back. Finding it very strange that I could read so much in his eyes, usually I avoided looking in peoples eyes-even Percy's and Ginny's on occasion. I didn't want to see their fear-I had quite enough of my own. But his were different. Not once did fear flicker across his gaze when I looked him in the eye.

"I assume I can safely have a nap without having you draw idiotic things on my face?" Malfoy suddenly said, though he made it a question, it was clear he wasn't expecting an answer.

Ginny giggled-faintly, but she giggled.

Percy frowned, but his lips twisted into a small smile.

Everything had changed so much, was all I could think as I turned my gaze back out the window, everyone had changed.

x

I woke early, because it was still dark outside, which meant something had woken me. Nothing dangerous. After nine years you learn to tell the difference, you have to or you'll drive yourself crazy and to exhaustion--making it easier for them to pick you up if they raid. So it wasn't dangerous. Now, what was it? I looked at Percy--he was awake, leaning against the wall, eyes closed, hands folded into his sleeves, gripping his wand I wouldn't bet. So it wasn't him. Ginny perhaps. I shifted my gaze downwards to her, she was awake as well, and looking at…

Ah yes, I had forgotten. Malfoy was here. I slid my gaze along to him. He too was awake, and whispering breathlessly I n another language, to the small boy in his arms, who was whimpering almost silently.

That was what had woken me.

I started to look back out the window, Percy had his eyes open and was watching me. I thought about giving him some sort of reassuring smile, but I knew I couldn't. so I looked out the window. The rain had stopped. I looked back round when I heard someone getting ready to leave. To my surprise, almost, it was Malfoy. He caught my gaze and smiled wearily, repositioning his now awake so in his arms.

"I wish you well." he told us, turning to leave.

I frowned. It didn't seem right somehow. To just let him leave.

"It's about time we left anyway." Percy spoke up, straightening and lifting the sack bag that held our meagre belongings. "No point hanging around." he looked at Malfoy, he trusted him, something rare for Percy. "Would you mind the company?" he asked, his eyes flicked to me for a second while he said it, ad I wondered why.

My eyes flashed to Malfoy, who blinked in surprise before schooling his features into a calm expression, nodding in some kind of silent understanding. He smirked, looking at me, his eyes shining in amusement. "It might be amusing, to reminisce of old school days."

"Hmm." was my response to that.

So it was still dark when we left the shack, allowing those we had woken to catch a few more hours of sleep. Collecting our old bottles filled now with infested rainwater, and began our way through the broken streets, picking our way around the rubble. My mind was still fixed on why Percy had looked at me when asking Malfoy if we could travel with him, and why Malfoy ad looked so understanding.

I don't know how long we walked in silence, it was normal, talking just meant it was easier for them to hear you if they were out on patrol. I had seen them pick people out through the merest of whispers. That did not mean to say that we never spoke while we walked, it just meant we had to be careful. Dawn was breaking. We couldn't see it through the smog that carpeted the city, but it was getting lighter.

Ginny was starting to fidget beside me as we walked, looking at Malfoy as if she wanted to say something. It made me curious, it's not like her to fidget, not these days anyway… not that I can remember if she did before… I too looked ahead to were Malfoy walked beside my brother.

"Malfoy." she asked finally.

He looked round, Julian's head in his shoulder, asleep again. "Hmm?" he queried.

"Why did you decide to have a child?" she asked.

I blinked at the question, what kind of one was that, and why did she need to know?

"Ginny!" Percy sighed, a note close to exasperation in his hushed tone.

Draco smiled slightly, considering. He was actually going to answer? Why? "It is important to continue one's bloodline, especially now. we're survived by our children--we might not have much to offer them--but if we don't bring them into the world, and give them what we have then they win, don't they?" he said, making it sound like the simplest thing in the world.

And it might have been--to him. But I was thoroughly confused, as was Ginny I noted. Percy looked considering of the words.

"What do you mean?" I asked, surprising myself.

slate eyes turned to me. "Think about it a moment Ron." he said quietly. "if we survivors stop reproducing, if we just give up our claim to this world, then Voldermort has won, and we have lost."

"We've already lost." I pointed out.

He smiled, a creepy kind of secretive smile. "No, no we haven't. Not completely." he said it with such confidence, like he really believed it. But how could he believe it? We were beaten down, hunted, forced to live off whatever we could find, regardless of whether it was rotting. we were dying in dozens. We had lost, we had lost nine years ago, and no amount of optimism (something not seem in this day and age let me tell you) could change that fact.

"Don't be stupid." I said softly, no force or bite behind the words. I looked away from his searching eyes and at the toppled over buildings around us. How could he say we are not lost… what is all this if we still have a chance.

"Your still alive aren't you."

My head snapped back around to him, but he had turned to look at Ginny consideringly. "If anyone in your family is going to continue your family name," he said, giving her a half smile. "It'll have to be you."

"W…What?" she asked, staring at him, much like I was, like he had grown an extra forty heads in a second. Incredulously I believe th word is.

He shrugged. "I'm only saying. But you have survived for a reason, so you might as well make good use of it." He started walking again.

I looked to Percy, very confused now. But Percy seemed to understand, because he just gave me a smile and followed Malfoy on down the street. I looked at Ginny, who I could see was just as puzzled as I was. We hurried to catch up, and we continued on in silence.

x

At nightfall we had taken up residence in an old cellar of some sort, it was dank, musty, and had no windows I could stare out of blindly. Not that I really needed them in order to let my thoughts drift. Percy had started a small fire, which we were huddled around. Malfoy sat with his son in his lap. we were al quiet. Some things just never seemed to change. There was just never anything to talk about anymore. And it annoyed me.

"What did you mean earlier, about Ginny?" I asked, cutting across the silence.

Malfoy looked at me, smirking. "Getting irritable are we Ronald?" he asked, voice perfectly innocent.

I summoned up a scowl, a pathetic one given I hadn't made that facial expression in a long time.

He laughed, pulling his son close to him, almost cuddling him it seemed. "All I meant earlier is that is you want your family to survive it will have to be your sister who has any children. Now is a time when families will not stay together--your notwithstanding of course, women will not stay with men because they believe they cannot protect them. The child is the woman's, not the man's."

"Your not making any sense!" I said, a snappish edge to my tone.

"Actually he makes a lot of sense." Percy said.

I looked at him. "What?" I asked.

"His son carries on his bloodline. If you or I were to get a woman pregnant let's say, there's a greater chance she would leave without a word and we would never know if we had a child, and that child would never know us. But if Ginny had a child, that child would be a Weasely, because it would be hers and not the father's." he explained slowly, like he was seriously thinking about it.

"And why would we want Ginny to have a baby? Just so it could be taken to one of those camps?" I asked.

Percy shook his head. "I'm not saying that. It's just a thought is all. Our family could live on through Ginny."

I didn't answer, this was a stupid conversation, talking about children, the family continuing. If we found Fred, George, Bill and Charlie I would be more than content. The battle was over, we lost, all we can do is stay alive long enough to be together again. That was all.

"If the children belong to the mother, where's his?" Ginny asked.

Malfoy froze, and I felt a kind of perverse delight in it.

He offered a kind of strained smile, and the boy curled up tighter in his arms. "We stayed together, as much as we could." he didn't elaborate further, but the pain in his eyes made it not needed and I felt guilty, a feeling I hadn't felt in a very long time.

We stayed silent for the rest of the night.

x

I was woken once again by the whimpering of Julian, and Malfoy's whispers in that other language. I didn't move, just listened. Finally there was the sound of movement, and the little boy quietened. "I apologise." Malfoy said softly, sitting down close to where I was lying. I opened my eyes and looked at him. "The nights are the worst." he admitted to me.

I frowned and moved to sit up. "Hmm?" I asked, curious.

He gave me a wan smile. "His mother…" he trailed off and sighed. Why was he telling me this? He had to know both Percy and Ginny were awake and listening. Who was this man? He couldn't possibly be the Malfoy I remembered, the one who made snide remarks at every turn, the one who just didn't care.

"His mother was killed… I think… Three years ago in the torture camps." he told me, his voice hushed. He looked down at the little boy. "It took a long time to get out of there. He was never the same after that. I think they may have made him watch…" he closed his eyes, and I was surprised to see tears glistening at the corners of his eyes. "The nights are the worst…" he ended softly, stroking Julian's hair.

I stayed silent for a while, looking at my brother and my sister, trying to think of something to say. "You've changed." I said finally. And he had, a lot.

He shrugged lightly. "Perhaps." was all he said.

Yes, he had changed. Not like I had, I had shut down over the years, living only until I could find my brothers, I could give up then, because it wouldn't matter. He was different, very different. He lived for something, like I did, but in a different way. His son… that woman he loved memory. There was a determination in his grey eyes, the determination to survive for something other than himself. I was reminded of what he had said earlier. That we still had a chance.

He truly believed it.

I couldn't. It was too far fetched, and far to optimistic for the time we lived in. A dream that could never come to fruition.

The hairs on the back of my neck began to prickle. Something was coming.

He moved so suddenly I was momentarily stunned, shaking his son awake. He put the small child on the floor, woozy and only half awake and whispered urgently. "Hide Julian, and don't come out until either I, or one of these nice people call you. Ok." The child's eyes widened in fear and he darted towards the back wall, squeezing himself into a tiny space I hadn't even known was there. It was only then that I noticed Percy was on his feet, pulling Ginny with him towards the tumbledown part of the cellar.

"Ron!" he called.

I made to move towards them when Malfoy grabbed my arm. "We'd be found!" he hissed, shoving me towards the far wall, and a small hole in the roof that led outside. He followed me, pushing me into the corner beside it. He looked at me, eyes boring into mine. "If I don't come back, please look after him for me." he pleaded.

I blinked in shock, but before I could reply he was pulling himself out of the hole and outside. What was he doing? I don't know what drove me to follow, but I glanced over to where Percy and Ginny were hiding, to where Julian was hiding. I pulled myself out after him, pausing for just a moment when I saw him facing off against three deatheaters. I still didn't fully understand what he was doing, or why, and I most definitely didn't understand why I was climbing out after him. Some misguided attempt at heroics obviously.

I slipped towards them slowly, hiding myself in the rubble and debris. I watched as they used their magic on him, he had no wand, and yet he was defending himself easily. I watched, fascinated. I should have been running away, hiding. I should have been with my family. But I couldn't seem to tear my eyes away from the sight before me. Why had he left the cellar, why had he walked right into their hands? It didn't make any sense.

He spun round, sending a spell in my direction, I stumbled back, but it flew straight over my head, and straight into a deatheater that had come up behind me. I didn't see what happened next, but by Malfoy's cry of pain I doubted it was very good. The next thing I knew I was being hauled to my feet and pushed towards where two of the deatheater's were holding Malfoy.

He looked at me, and his eyes were sad, like he knew something I didn't, something bad.

"Let's get them to the camp. I think Lord Malfoy will want to know about this." The deatheater who spoke tangled his hand in Malfoy's long hair, jerking his head back until he was staring at his face. "Won't he, Draco."

Malfoy scowled.

There was little I could do as I was made to touch a portkey, and within seconds I was no longer standing in the middle of a rundown city. I was standing in one of Voldermort's Torture Camps…


End file.
